


This is the Way the World Ends

by Chronicler



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Fabulous Killjoys Fusion, Based on a My Chemical Romance Song, Betrayal, Fantasy, Friendship/Love, Inspired By Person of interest, Love/Hate, M/M, My Chemical Romance References, Sexual Content, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 03:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7418278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronicler/pseuds/Chronicler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The days are dangerous at the end of the world. A group of lost souls scour the streets, scavenging for food and supplies. All they have left now is each other.</p><p>What little order there is left comes from Better Living Industries, who have taken over as the world burns. They rule with an iron fist, controlling the Earth's dwindling resources and snuffing out inconvenient lives.</p><p>Consumed by desperation and bravado, the five friends brave B.L.I. headquarters, to face their destiny...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is the Way the World Ends

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: I didn't use AO3's warnings. Enter at your own risk. And abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
> 
> This story is so geeky and meta: it's a 1D story based on their 2013 Fabulous photoshoot; set in a My Chemical Romance music video minus My Chemical Romance; inspired by a Person Of Interest episode; with the aesthetics of the films Sunshine and Barton Fink and the TV show Fear The Walking Dead minus the zombies.
> 
> You don't need to know anything about My Chemical Romance.
> 
> Set in a mid-atlantic Neverland. They grew up together so speak in mine and Zayn's working class Yorkshire dialect.
> 
> Thank you to Barb for beta reading, it was very kind of you, given that you are a proper writer and not even in 1D fandom.
> 
> I just added a few more lines. I'll try stop editing now...
> 
> The poetry quote is from The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot: https://allpoetry.com/The-Hollow-Men
> 
> The entire album Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys is the soundtrack to this story, especially:
> 
> Na Na Na: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mI9-F8uT5g4
> 
> Sing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTgnDLWeeaM
> 
> And Planetary Go: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvfNmXbVHi4

_This is the way the world ends_  
_This is the way the world ends_  
_This is the way the world ends_  
_Not with a bang but a whimper._

_T. S. Eliot_

 

‘You’re all a bunch of useless tossers!’ Zayn yelled and slammed the door in Liam’s face.

‘C’mon, babe,’ Liam said in as hushed a voice as he could manage while he knocked, ‘let me in.’

‘For fucks sake, Payne, get your whiny little bitch in line,’ Louis’ high-pitched voice cut through the heavy atmosphere. Liam glanced over and caught Louis rolling his eyes as he grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him into one of the other bedrooms. Towering over Louis, Harry let himself be led away.

Catching Liam’s eye, Niall gave an apologetic shrug and slipped into another of the empty rooms, closing the door behind himself, careful and quiet.

With a sigh, Liam slid down the wall next to the door. Knees bent, he rested his elbows on them, let his head fall forward and screwed his eyes shut for a brief moment of escape.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he muttered under his breath. He unclenched his fists and finally looked at his hands as he peeled off his ruined gloves. Black and fingerless, the gloves were supposed to protect him but had done a shit job. His knuckles were already starting to purple around the torn, bloodied skin. And he was shaking. ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he muttered again and clenched his hands back into fists, glanced up at the door and saw the smear of red he’d left there.

There were dents in the flaking woodwork, stark in the light from the bare bulb swinging overhead. Through holes in the ragged sheet strewn across the window he could see a scattering of stars against the blackness.

With another sigh he dragged himself back to his feet and brushed the dust off his jeans.

He leaned his sore hands against each side of the door frame and called, ‘Zayn? C’mon, you gonna make me sleep on the sofa? I think there’s things living in it. Let me in and I’ll make you feel better…’

There was a click as the the lock turned, and the sound of Zayn walking away. Liam took that as the only invitation he was going to get and went inside.

‘This place is a dump, can’t we find somewhere to crash that’s less of a shithole?’ Zayn asked, collapsing onto the stained, rumpled bed. He'd taken off his T-shirt, and Liam watched the intricate patterns inked over every inch of his torso and arms ripple as he moved.

‘We’ll take a look tomorrow, it's time we moved on anyway.’ With a grunt, Liam slowly pulled off his denim jacket. Zayn had messily cut the sleeves off the month before when the heat became unbearable. It took a few attempts to raise his arms and wrestle his filthy, once-white vest over his head. He dropped it onto the floor with the rest of the debris.

‘Shit,’ he muttered as he fumbled at the button on his jeans. But his hands had been through too much and wouldn’t cooperate.

‘Let me,’ Zayn said, coming over. Smaller, nimble hands closed over Liam’s, pushed them away. Delicate fingers fluttering over Liam’s torn skin. ‘Shit, I din’t realise. I’ll fix you up in a minute.’ Working Liam’s jeans down, Zayn backed him up to sit on the edge of the bed, then fell to his knees. He unlaced Liam’s battered old boots and yanked them off, then finished pulling off his jeans and socks, just leaving him in boxers that had seen better days.

Almost naked, Liam watched as Zayn tended to him, got a bowl of water and their makeshift first aid kit, and wiped, disinfected, bound. Liam’s hands, his ribs, already curdling to a sickly purple. Without looking up, Zayn put all his concentration into his task. It made Liam tingle, his blood heading south.

When he couldn’t take it any more, he looked away and cleared his throat, staring at a shitty picture on the wall, of sea and sand, cut out of a magazine. A calmness he couldn’t even remember. ‘ _Ow_ ,’ he pulled his hand away when it stung too much, but Zayn yanked it back and carried on. ‘Almost done? I need a fag.’

Zayn just hummed a response and Liam tried to be still and patient. But he may as well have tried to hold back the tide. ‘That’ll do,’ he said, getting up and pushing past Zayn, tucking a bandage hanging from his hand into place.

He shoved the window up, lit a cigarette, and leaned his elbows on the sill.

Outside, the world burned.

Yelling echoed through the wrecked streets, and flames flickered red against the darkness. When society crumbles, it crumbles fast.

They’d been friends since they were kids, the five of them, grown up in care together. And when the world had stuttered to a halt and fallen apart around them, they’d drifted together. Clung to each other. The fractures splintering between them not as bad as the cracks fragmenting the earth.

‘Thought you was gonna make me feel better?’ Zayn asked, plastering himself against Liam’s back, his cheek pressed to Liam’s shoulder blade. His breath, warm against Liam’s clammy skin, made goosepimples spring up.

Despite everything, Liam smirked, flicked his cigarette out the window and pushed Zayn to the bed, pushed him down onto it.

‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ he murmured, looking down at Zayn as he climbed on top of him.

He never could get over how Zayn looked. As finely sculpted as statues Liam had heard of, but never went to see, in museums that were all smashed to pieces now. Cheekbones sharp as a knife, and the side of his hair still carefully shaved with the swirls on top raised high. Because, as Zayn said, the end of the world was no excuse to neglect his appearance.

And Liam smiled to think of it, while he helped Zayn wriggle out of his too-tight jeans, then opening him up till Zayn was slick and eager. His hand grasped at Zayn’s throat, slender but the tendons strong and rigid under Liam's palm as he pushed into him. It was all too fast, too frantic, Liam knew that, he did, but he could hear time ticking away to silence and Zayn was all he had left to hold onto. So he held on too tight, rutting into him, then pushed Zayn over onto his belly and fucked him till the world faded away to nothing.

~*~

Liam drank bitter coffee made on the camping stove they’d set up in the kitchen. It was good to taste something warm again, even if he knew he should be trying to lower his body temperature. Though, really, what did it matter anymore? Everything was going to burn up.

‘You can have the next one we find,’ Zayn said, snatching the last coke out of Niall’s hand.

The breakfast table wobbled as Niall reached across to grab at the can, saying, ‘There’s not gonna be any more.’

Liam sat back and watched them squabble over a bag of crisps, feeling like a total fucking failure. Because he didn’t have a clue where they’d find more food. And Zayn had always been too thin, his finely sculpted beauty balanced on a knife’s edge now readying to tip over into gaunt.

‘C’mon,’ Liam said when he’d had enough of watching his friends descend into scuffling, ‘we’ll go on a supply run.’

‘Yeah, that fucking went well yesterday,’ Zayn answered, but he got to his feet, evading Niall’s grasp and taking a swig from the can, then flashing a grin before Liam hustled him out the door.

But Zayn was right, fuck he was right, Liam told himself over and over as he drove through the smouldering town. Beside him, Zayn, having called shotgun, looked out the smashed window in the car door, one boot propped up against the dashboard and his fingers tapping out a dull rhythm on his thigh.

‘Yesterday was such a clusterfuck, be more careful today, yeah?’ Zayn said, without looking at him, and Liam gripped the wheel harder.

He didn’t want a repeat of what happened either, but there seemed to be no escape. Each day a replay of the one before but sinking further and further into hell. The crunch of bone still rang his ears and the warmth of blood splattering against his face. ‘You’re no different to us,’ The Mauler had spat at him before blacking out. And it was true. There were no good guys left.

No birds sang. Packs of feral dogs howled. And through loudspeakers representatives of Better Living Industries barked out threats and promises which were becoming indistinguishable from each other. ‘– AND IF YOU SUBMIT WILLINGLY FOOD AND WATER WILL BE SUPPLIED AT OUR FACILITIES ALONG WITH PROTECTION FROM –’ The voices bled into the howl of the wind as the car sped by.

Shaking his head, Liam tensed his jaw, swerving around a pile of burning tires on the road and smashing through a blockade. He didn’t dare look over and check on Zayn, just listened to him grunt at the impact. Zayn could alway see who Liam really was, Zayn’s eyes pure amber, hard as glass and always luminous. Could always see the scared boy Liam used to be, still hiding beneath the muscle and scowl.

‘You’re such a fucking psycho, babe,’ Zayn’s breath hot against his ear, teeth nipping at his earlobe, restless fingers gripping his thigh.

With a grunt Liam pulled into a grimy alleyway, unzipped his jeans and pushed Zayn’s head down, ignored the van Louis was driving hurting past on the road. Fell into another kind of wet warmth.

~*~

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Louis yelled when Liam got out of the battered old Ford Escort in the car park where they’d arranged to meet.

Zayn came round the car to join him, making a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand then sucking a couple of his fingers.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ Louis put both hands on Zayn’s chest and shoved him, ‘you’re such a fucking slag, Malik. We an’t got time for this.’

Zayn smirked, the amber of his eyes hardening to stone, pushed Louis back. ‘Lay another finger on me, _Thomlinson_ , and I’ll cut if off.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Liam pushed between them, ‘we’re not kids anymore! Cut this shit out.’

Harry and Niall were climbing out of the van, but stayed well back, knew from long experience how to avoid the fray. Niall kept his head down, but Harry caught Louis’ eye, sharing a look Liam had stopped trying to read a long time ago.

With a sound of disgust Louis turned and headed over to them. While the three of them talked in hushed tones, Liam turned back to Zayn, found Zayn looking up at him.

‘They’re holding us back, you know they are. We should ditch ’em,’ Zayn said quietly, stepping so close Liam could feel his warmth, even with the sun blazing down on them, blood red fury in the sky; hotter than it had ever been before. He felt grimy in filthy denim, the hot water long since gone, and even the cold tepid and stagnant as it sputtered out of taps in whatever house they commandeered.

Liam ran his hand down the shirt hanging open over Zayn’s own filthy T-shirt, that managed to look punk on him not just destitute. His fingers gripped onto the black and red flannel, pulled Zayn even closer. ‘This my shirt?’

Zayn shrugged, hands pushing against Liam’s abdomen. And really, how could either of them know anymore where one ended and the other began? It felt to Liam like they’re always been together.

‘You din’t answer me: we should ditch ’em,’ Zayn hissed again, his hand snaking lower. ‘They’re gonna get us killed.’

Liam leant his forehead against Zayn’s with a sigh. He was sick of this conversation. ‘They’re our friends.’

‘You’re the brawn and I’m the brains, what the fuck do they bring to the party?’

And a lifetime played out for Liam, all the memories that were being burnt away.

When he was six and terrified and he’d been dumped at the home, parents dead and no one bothered if he joined them. And Louis, the first kid to speak to him, laughing and shining with the glow of life that Liam had thought had been extinguished for good.

Niall, who had grown up in the home, never known anything else, and had been a comforting presence at Liam’s side for years. Who had stayed up at night trying over and over to teach Liam to read so he wouldn’t get relegated to a ‘special’ home. The other kids had told stories in hushed whispers of places like that, places even worse than Doret House, the shithole they were stuck in.

Harry, who’d shown up when they were nine, bruised and battered and silent. But Louis had coaxed him out of his shell and never budged from his side.

And then when they were twelve, and a runaway was dumped in the midst of them, a hurricane, because the reformatory was too full. Zayn had been all jagged edges and sullen brooding with the occasional volcanic eruption. Wound tight enough to snap. But he’d spotted Liam right off the bat; somehow talked his way into them sharing a room; snuck McDonald's in for them to eat at night; taught Liam to blaze up; and played him sultry R&B and vicious rap music he’d never heard before. Offered to let Liam share his bed. And Liam’d been so overwhelmed. But, ‘Finally get your dick wet, you pillock!’ Louis had told him; ‘Go for it, mate!’ Niall had urged; ‘He really likes you, you’ll hate yourself if you don’t,’ Harry had whispered. So he had. He’d fallen into Zayn and held on like his life depended on it. And maybe it had.

And the years had passed, years of struggle and turmoil, of running and running but never getting anywhere: but at least they’d had each other.

‘They’re our friends,’ he repeated.

Shaking his head, Zayn stalked back to the car and Louis came back over, looking calmer from whatever Harry had whispered to him.

‘Stop thinking with your dick,’ he said to Liam, glaring across at Zayn who was leaning against the roof of the car, lighting a cigarette.

‘Have ya quite finished? You know I hate being stuck in the middle. We got a plan?’

‘Yeah. Go get princess over there,’ he raised his chin at Zayn, ‘and we’ll fill you in.’

~*~

They sat in the back of Louis’ battered old van, the five of them, pouring over the crumpled plans spread out on the floor and ignoring the stink of oil and sweat. Liam didn't really pay attention, was better at action than the lead-up, didn't look closely at the blue lines squiggled across sheets of paper. There were no words, no titles, and even if there had been he needed time and calm to make sense of writing, letters danced across pages and flitted away from him.

‘We need code names.’ Louis said, with a decisive nod of his head.

Zayn rolled his eyes, said, ‘Fuck that, no we don’t, like Liam said we’re not kids anymore.’

‘Everyone is renaming themselves now, reinventing themselves: it’s a brave new world.’

‘It fucking in’t, it’s a dying world and you’re all gonna bite the bullet before I do.’

Silence descended. Arms wrapped around his knees, Liam’s hands clenched into fists as he looked out the tiny, grubby window in the back door. Looked at the red sky on the blazing hot afternoon, the air smouldering as fires blazed.

‘Lucky Clover!’ Niall called, breaking the tension.

‘What?’ Liam asked, relaxing just a little.

‘I nicked me records once and read ’em: said I was born in Ireland, but I don’t remember it. So that’s me name: Lucky Clover.’

Despire everything, Liam returned his grin.

‘You’re the Star Kid,’ Louis said, bumping his shoulder against Harry, the youngest of them, whose charisma always drew everyone in.

‘And you?’ Liam asked Louis.

‘Me? I’m…’ a sly smile spread across his lips, ‘I’m Compact Dynamite.’

‘Course you are,’ Liam said with a laugh, another smile overtaking him.

‘And you,’ Louis gave Liam an assessing look. ‘You’re –’

‘Rage Riot,’ Zayn said, looking at Liam.

‘I thought you said this is juvenile?’ Louis asked.

‘It is. But you don’t get to name him: he’s mine.’

‘He were mine first.’

‘Yeah, well, he’s mine now.’

And the awkward silence descended again, the cracks fracturing between them widening into chasms that only let in darkness. It had started years ago. Petty jealousies and familiarity breeding contempt till the roots binding them together strangled into a noose.

Fidgeting, Niall said: ‘Remember that gang everyone made such a fuss about before they got wiped out? The Fabulous Killjoys they was called, right? They was really cool, we should name our squad too and –’

‘No, we really fucking shouldn’t,’ Zayn cut in.

‘The Amazing Delinquents,’ Louis said, giving Zayn a grin that managed to look like a threat.

‘The Outsiders,’ Liam suggested, trying to calm things down.

‘That’s taken, babe,’ Zayn answered. ‘This is fucking lame, but how ’bout Blud Brothers?’

‘I like it,’ Liam said, smiling at him.

‘Or Glory Platoon?’ Harry said.

‘Yeah, Star – that’s the winning entry, that’s who we are: Glory Platoon,’ Louis said, pushing his shoulder against Harry’s, who smiled down at his hands clasped together on his knees. Tall and lanky, Harry was sat against the wall, his thighs pressed against his chest, trying not to take up too much space.

‘Whatever,’ Zayn muttered, ‘sounds like summat soldiers stick their dicks through to get sucked off.’ But he leaned closer to Liam and murmured, ‘So, _Rage_ , what’s my name?’ against his ear, squeezing his knee. Liam shifted, pushed out his leg and pulled down the hem of his T-shirt.

 _Who are you?_ Liam wondered, gazing into the shifting hazel of Zayn’s eyes caught in the scarlet shadows of the van. _You’re lovely, difficult, smart, you drive me nuts and I never wanna have to try live without you. You’re –_

‘Viper Venom,’ Louis said with a shit-eating grin that Liam didn’t like the look of.

But Zayn just gave a smile as hard as stone, and said with a nod: ‘Yeah – yeah, that’s me.’

~*~

Another long, dusty road. They raced past smouldering roadside dives that had once been where lorries stopped for food, for rest, but now bodies decayed in maggot-ridden heaps with swarms of flies and ravens feeding on the carcasses.

They siphoned petrol, smashed the fronts of snack machines, bled taps dry, and kept heading south.

‘We don’t have to meet up with ’em, we can just keep going,’ Zayn said, slumped in the seat at Liam’s side.

‘And go where?’

‘There are places we could go, live better, survive longer.’

‘ _Where?_ ’

Zayn gave an annoyed sigh, wrestling with the handle on the window, trying to lower it. ‘It’s hot as fuck, can we find a less piece-o’-shit car?’

Liam just nodded, speeding through the dry yellow of the countryside as it shriveled to ashes.

~*~

A city rose up against the horizon, the red of the sky bleeding into the smashed glass of skyscrapers piercing it like daggers.

‘Will this do, Vipe?’ Liam asked, after they abandoned the rusty old Ford and, searching abandoned streets on the outskirts, found a convertible. He polished the side with his bandage and glove covered hand, still sore and crusted with blood. ‘It’s only a Jag, but it’s better than what we coulda got our hands on before. Some long-gone fuckers mid-life crisis. Can ya imagine if we coulda bought shit like this?’

‘It’ll do,’ Zayn answered, laying his hands flat against the bonnet, looking down at his reflection in the black paintwork.

‘You look good like that, you always shoulda been rich and pampered, I always wanted provide for ya…’ Liam said, coming up behind him.

‘Then you shoulda.’

He pressed himself against Zayn’s back, pushed him down till his chest hit the bonnet and his fingers scrambled against scratched paintwork.

‘But I know,’ the crick of Liam lowering his zip as Zayn shoved his own jeans down, ‘how to take care of ya.’

Hard and rough, fast like his life depended on it, Liam made Zayn scream into the howling hot wind, leaving behind white streaks in the dust and dirt.

~*~

_Everything was pleasantly cool, cool as a country stream in the first thaw of spring. And the sun overhead was warm, but not hot, not red, honey yellow and drenching everything with sepia. Harry and Louis were swimming out in the blue-grey sea, their bare chests glistening in the glow as they stopped to kiss._

_By the water’s edge, Niall laughed, skimming stones until Louis broke away and yelled, ‘Oi! Have ya quite finished?!’ But he was smiling, his eyes slits as he ducked under the water and came up in a spray of droplets that sparkled in the sun._

_Laid on his back and propped up on his elbows, Liam laughed as he watched. His tanned skin was taut over his muscles, the black latters inked over it more artistic than he remembered them being when he'd fallen drunk out of tattoo parlours. His shirt discarded along with his boots, he just wore jeans, blue as the sky and clean. He swigged a mouthful of beer from the bottle in his hand, cold as ice, the glass sweating droplets of water over his fingers, his skin whole, unmarred._

_‘Babe,’ Zayn said, laid by his side on the gingham rug._

_‘Hmmm?’_

_‘Leave ’em to it, I need taking care of.’_

_‘Course ya do, baby.’_

_He balanced the bottle in the pebbly sand and lay down against soft, bronzed skin, running his hands over well-fed flesh. Zayn’s chest stuttered under his fingers, under his lips, Zayn gasping as Liam sucked on an umber nipple, his teeth scraping, Zayn arching beneath him, the rest of the world fading away. Zayn’s hand snaked down and –_

Grabbed his shoulder –

And shook – shook –

‘Rage! – fuck, I feel like a wanker saying that – Rage!’ Zayn’s distant voice called.

Liam grunted and tried to sink back into the cool yellow and –

More shaking, more words called to him, ‘Fucking wake up, we’re almost there.’

With a sigh, Liam scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Opened them to red skies streaking past the car and the wind biting as it roared over him. ‘Sorry, babe, I was dreaming. You were there, and the others, and –’

‘Let me guess – I needed a heart, you needed a brain, and we were following t’yellow brick road ’cuz there’s no place like home?’

‘What?’

‘It’s from The Wizard of – Forget it.’

Liam looked over at Zayn’s hands gripping the wheel, knuckles pale as bone. ‘Good thing I taught you to drive. You were such a wuss about it,’ he pushed his hand up under Zayn’s T-shirt, fumbling at a nipple. ‘Least the roads are empty now.’

‘Knock it off,’ Zayn swatted at Liam’s hand as he spoke, eyes still trained on the expanse of road disappearing into the distance, but a smile tugging at his lips.

~*~

‘For fucks sake, you two in heat or summat?’ Louis asked when Liam and Zayn joined him and the others, Zayn still pulling his crumpled clothes into place. They stood against a tall wire fence, silver and topped with spikes it pricked the heavens, the red finally fading to rouged blackness littered with the welcome ice of stars. There was no moon, no street lights, and at the edge of the wide street the world faded away to nothing. It closed off one of the gated communities that had sprung up almost overnight, when society had rose up and crashed down after they found out there wasn’t much time left.

‘He was worried,’ Harry said, bumping his shoulder against Louis’.

‘Was not, Star.’

‘Was too.’

With a slow smile Harry grabbed Louis’ hand and Zayn rolled his eyes. ‘Like you said, we an’t got time for that: we’ve got a job to do.’

‘You’d know all about jobs, _Viper_ , but usually you’re on your knees for ’em and get dosh shoved into your hand afterwards,’ Louis threw back.

‘ _W_ _atch it_ ,’ Liam said, shooting a hard glance at Louis, who fell silent for once and slunk back to the van.

He came back with a sack, and with a glare tossed a mask to Zayn and something that glittered in the meagre light. Zayn flicked it open: a switchblade. He smiled down at it then pulled on the intricate masquerade mask of black velvet with silver filigree, covering the top half of his face.

‘Seriously, Dyn?’ Liam asked, while Niall grasped a cricket bat, disappearing into a halloween ghost mask, and Harry took a crowbar and, awkward with one hand, pulled on a Guy Fawkes mask.

‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Louis answered with a shrug, muffled through the hockey mask he’d just put on and wrapping his fist around an ice pick.

He held out a balaclava to Liam, who just shook his head, pulled the bandana out of his back pocket and wrapped it around the lower part of his face, covering his stubble and knotting it over the rough bristles of his buzzed off hair.

‘Black?’ Louis said, Liam barely making out the word through the mask. ‘I like it when you wear the red one: I figure it means you’re into fisting and just an’t told me the gory details yet.’

‘I’m into a lot of shit,’ Liam answered, his own words muffled.

‘There are two ways I could take that,’ Louis answered, and Liam pictured the sly grin that must be emerging beneath his mask.

‘I bet you say that all the fucking time, like when –’ Liam's words came to an abrupt halt when Louis pulled the last item from his sack. ‘What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?’ Liam asked, as Louis thrust the gun into his hand.

‘You shoot the fuckers, is what you do with it.’

The heft of it in Liam’s hand weighed him down, but it was just another step along a path he knew there was already no way back from.

~*~

They scaled the wire fence, Louis chucking his jacket over the top to stop them getting snagged on wire that grasped at them like skeletal fingers.

When Liam glanced back, the punctured denim dangled limply, a fitting flag hanging itself from their mast.

A massive building loomed ahead of them as they slunk along the edge of the wide street. Light tumbled out of its windows, which meant survivors, meant resources, meant a generator. Not many places had electricity anymore.

Liam came to a halt, studying the sign over the door, the letters sliced from steel, catching the artificial light and glinting like blades: BETTER LIVING INDUSTRIES. ‘This where we’re going?' he asked. 'Seriously? They must want us dead after some o’ the shit we’ve pulled.’

Louis dragged him into an alley between old brick buildings, voice as low as it ever got as he gripped onto Liam’s vest and leaned close, rising on his toes to reach Liam’s ear. ‘Zayn din’t tell ya yet he got those plans, and where they were for? I din't wanna freak out t’others, but I thought he'd have caved and told you by now.’

‘What? No.’ He glanced over at Zayn, his back to them as he kept an eye on the street, Niall and Harry huddled together at the other side whispering. ‘How the fuck did he get them?’

Shrugging, Louis said, ‘Who the fuck knows, prob sucked off some suit and stole ’em from his briefcase.’

‘Don’t fucking start,’ Liam sighed out an annoyed breath, shaking his head, ‘And why didn’t he just tell me in the first place?’

‘Said you’d do summat stupid, pull some Rambo shit and go on your own, see what you could scavenge for us.’

Liam couldn't really deny that and stayed silent while Louis pulled him back into the street and they all edged closer to the building that loomed ahead of them, sleek white and polished glass amongst the squalor.

It wasn’t their first run-in with Better Living Industries, who’d filled the power vacuum as the world fell apart and waited for the end. The company had said they had answers, said they could save the world. They had fuck all. But if there was any order left, they were it. Had taken over and burned through the world with even more destructive force than the fires. Just another supernova. And everyone knew: whatever was left out there, B.L.I. had it for sale, and you paid with whatever you had, even if all you had was your life.

So they’d taken what they could, the five of them, fought back, run, but here they were, facing the lion in its den.

Liam readied himself for the guards at the door, but there were only cameras, circles of dead red eyes watching them. The lobby empty behind. Maybe it was abandoned after all, like everywhere else.

Liam shot the massive glass doors, the bang shocking through the still night; for a fraction of a second a hole marred the sheer expanse; before jagged lines like lightning spread out; a frozen lake shattering; he pushed at it with his still tender hands and it gave way; crumpled; a sharp sheet of ice curling to the ground in a wave and shattering as he took his boot to it. It crunched under their feet.

‘Stay close,’ Liam mumbled to Zayn as they hurried through clinal white corridors, the light dim, the silence ominous.

He gripped Zayn’s arm with one hand, held the gun in the other, kept his head down and Louis ahead of them.

‘Where we going, Dyn?’ Liam called to Louis, voice too loud, bouncing off the smooth walls.

‘Just follow like you always do, _Rage_ , be a good little soldier,’ Zayn hissed back. Sucking in another breath as they half ran, Liam glanced over at him; there'd been an edge to his voice, razor-sharp as the blade in his hand.

‘You sure you know where we’re going?’ Liam called ahead again to Louis.

‘Yeah,’ he replied over his shoulder. ‘It’s all in the plans: food, weapons, all the shit we need, we –’

Blinding light, even brighter than the sun, and Louis fell silent. Silenced by the deafening slam of a partition sliding into place behind of them.

Liam threw himself at the solid white and the shock of it stuttered through him. It felt like steel beneath the paint. He slammed the heel of his already bruised hand against it, pain settling like lead in his wrist.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ he muttered as he cradled his hand against his abdomen, his breath warm against his lips covered by scratchy cotton. He caught Zayn’s eye: he looked still, composed, eyes roaming over Liam’s body, lingering on his biceps which bulged as Liam tensed.

They carried on down the corridor, it wasn’t like they had any choice.

Liam pushed to the front, Louis grumbling but letting him lead.

He could feel Zayn behind him. Could always feel where he was. The reassuring warmth of him.

Each time they passed another ridged marker on the wall, another barrier whooshed shut behind them.

‘Stay close!’ Liam called back after Niall yelped, running to catch up and not get trapped without them.

 _Slam, Slam Slam_ followed them as they edged further and further towards whatever was going to happen. The white around them blinding under the harsh florescent lights.

‘ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,’ Liam muttered at the sight of a dead end up ahead, a closed door the only thing breaking up the dead white of it.

‘What do we do –’ he started to say, turning round, but stopped in his tracks when Zayn darted past him, a blur of dingy black denim and a streak of red flannel heading towards where the door stood, still and solid.

 _Slam_ : a bulkhead shot into place in front of Liam and the others, clear this time, and Liam raced at it, slammed into it, screaming: ‘Let me through! Let me go to him! Let me –’ his words died on his tongue when he stilled enough to really look Zayn, staring Liam right in the eyes through the glass.

A look Liam had never seen before.

Cold.

His brown eyes with their hint of green, edged with smudged black eyeliner, cold in the mask.

Liam froze.

His arms dropped to his sides.

He looked at Zayn through the smears of blood his worn-out hands had left streaked and splattered across the partition.

He yanked down the bandana covered his mouth. ‘Zayn?!’ he called, ‘what the fuck’s going on?!’

Zayn’s lips moved, but all Liam could hear were the hushed tones of his friends behind him.

His lips a hard line, Zayn gestured towards a box on the wall that Liam hadn’t even noticed. White like everything else, it had a button beside what looked like the mesh of a microphone. Liam slammed his fist into it, leaving behind another smear of blood.

It crackled and the others fell silent.

Beyond the glass, still watching him, Zayn pressed a matching button. ‘Viper,’ he said, voice flat and distant, filling the air, not coming from his side of the barrier, the glass like a sheet of ice keeping them apart. Looking up, Liam saw speakers jutting out of the walls. And the dead red eyes of cameras looking down at them.

‘What?’ Liam asked, forehead crinkling. Everything was moving too fast, even in the eerie stillness.

‘You called me “Zayn”. Zayn’s gone. I’m Viper now. I think I always was. And all you'll ever be is Liam, playing at being more.’

‘This is fucking crazy! What the fuck are you even saying?’

‘They told me I had to prove mesen. Show I could walk away from my old life, and give ’em summat in return. I’m not going down in flames with the rest of ya – I’m _not_. I never wanted to be part of your gang ’o losers, I was always gonna leave, always, there’s nowt for me there. I had this waiting in me for years.’ As he spoke he shook his head, hands gesturing. ‘I just had nowhere else to go: I do now.’

With a clatter, Louis threw his mask to the floor, marched at the glass and pounded on it, stabbed at it with the ice pick as he yelled, ‘You fucking traitor! I always knew you were just a piece ’o shit who were using us! I never shoulda let you near Liam! I never shoulda –’

Louis’ words faded to a sharp ringing in Liam’s ears as he backed away, clasping his fingers together behind his neck as he looked down at the white of the floor and paced. ‘ _No, no, no,_ ’ he muttered, his voice drowning out Zayn – Viper, he said he’s only Viper, not that Liam could even begin to comprehend or accept it – and Louis, still screaming at each other from either side of the glass. Harry’s mask lay discarded on the floor, the crowbar grasped in his hands as he tried to lever open the partition.

Liam grabbed it from him, pushed him out of the way, tried to get it between the solid barrier that had slammed shut behind them and the wall. Ripped off his tattered gloves and stabbed at the join until blood dripped from his hands, the white surrounding him streaking red.

Once, just once, it slid in and he pulled and pulled and pulled, but it didn’t budge.

Deep, guttural bellows filled the air interspersed with dull thuds.

And he realised it was him.

Realised he was banging against the partition, blood roaring in his ears.

He stilled, lay his head against the cool metal.

‘It’s alright, mate. We had a good run.’ He glanced over at the voice cutting through his impotent fury, found Niall, sitting on the floor, slumped back against the wall, looking up at him. The cricket bat lay abandoned by his feet.

‘I failed all of ya! You and Louis, and Harry, and Zayn, fuck, Zayn… It’s not fucking okay, Niall, it’s –’ he yelled, before the air crackled and a booming voice drowned everything out.

‘WELCOME TO BETTER LIVING INDUSTRIES. HAVING BEEN JUDGED SURPLUS TO REQUIREMENTS, YOU ARE INSIDE A PATENTED AIRTIGHT CHAMBER. IN 36.4 SECONDS ALL THE OXYGEN WILL HAVE BEEN REMOVED. WE HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR STAY.’

There was a sucking noise and the air rippled. Rippled and thinned.

‘Shoot the fucker!’ Louis screamed as Harry dragged him back from the glass, and Liam pulled the forgotten gun from where it was tucked into the back of his jeans.

He raised it, steadied his wrist with his other hand as he pointed it at Zayn who tensed his jaw as he gazed back.

But the memory of soft warm skin under his hands and soft warm words whispered into his ear was too strong, and Liam shook his head, yelled, ‘Get outta the fucking way!’

When Zayn didn’t move, Liam stepped to the side, finger convulsing as he emptied the chamber.

Deafeningly loud bangs and dull thuds echoed through the cell, as the bullets ricocheted back at them, clipping Liam’s arm, but he couldn’t even feel the pain as blood ran down it.

The thick glass was mottled with pockmarks, scratches, but stood intact. Distantly, Liam heard himself yelling as he flung himself at it, pounded with his fists, put his shoulder to it, again and again and again.

And beyond it, spittle at the corner of Zayn's lips, peppering his words as he yelled, ‘You knew I would leave! You always fucking knew! You musta known! And I tried to get ya to come with me, but you’ll never be any better than what you are now, and I won’t die with ya! All your plans were stupid, generic as fuck, and you're gonna go down in flames like everything else! I told ya I –’

But his words were drowned in the roar that rose in Liam’s ears. Everything was hazy, starting to blur, he couldn’t seem to focus his eyes.

Shaking, he slid down to his knees, the smear of blood his hands left behind bleeding to the ground. He looked up at Zayn, face lost in shadows as the door behind him slid open and white light, bright as the sun, framed him like a halo.

Gasping, his head heavy, so heavy, like the emptiness filling the room was pressing down on him, Liam hit the floor. Zayn’s heavy black boots turned and walked away. He disappeared through the door and it whooshed closed behind him.

Liam flopped over onto his back. Eyes wet, he took in Niall slumped against the wall. Still. Blue eyes fixed on nothing.

Harry and Louis, Laid together, bodies going tense and slack as they convulsed. Louis’ hands clasping tight to Harry’s hair, his T-shirt – then loosening, going limp.

After so much heat, the ice-cold biting at Liam's skin shocked his body to its core.

His blood roared in his ears, his chest heavy. Mouth open, a silent scream, his back arched, his hands claws now, scratching at the floor, at his vest, ripping.

Air – air – air –

Eyes wide, dry, staring up at the white glare of the ceiling, the circular florescent lights glowing, growing bigger, bigger, blotting everything out, the glare of the sun –

_– Liam looked down from the glare of the sun, so intense it was white hot._

_It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. A moment of blindness before he saw the sea, saw it shimmering. A gentle breeze that smelt of brine and barbecue rustled the hardy tufts of long grass that pushed through the golden, shingle strewn sand. And it wasn't so hot after all, he realised, just bright and the warmth soothing as a caress._

_Liam lay was on his back, a rug soft beneath him and the heavens wide over him, open and blue._

_There was laughter, and he looked over at Louis roughhousing with Harry, but not fooling anyone as he grabbed Harry from behind and managed to lift him up. Niall laughed louder and flicked sparkling seawater at them._

_‘We can stay here?’ Zayn asked from where he lay, head pillowed on Liam’s chest. ‘We’re never going back, right?’_

_‘Hmmm,’ Liam answered, fingers threading into Zayn’s hair, black strands wrapped around his fingers. ‘Course we can stay, babe. It’s always been the five of us, and it’s always gonna be. Where else would we go?’_

_And overhead the sun beamed down, a gentle golden glow that blotted everything else out._

**_The End_**


End file.
